“Hey,” Kate said as the last of her Year Seven Music students passed Tilly on their way to their next class.

Tilly popped open the top button at the collar of her dress, the lapels parting. “There’s something I have to discuss with you,” she said, exhaling deeply as she stopped before Kate’s desk.

“Sure,” Kate said. “The VCE girls will be here in a few minutes but you can have me until—”

“Who prescribed The Color Purple?”

Slowly, Kate slipped the marked pages of the Year Seven girls’ music assessments into her fifth period folder. “I already told you. Cynthia and I selected the texts together…”

Tilly set The Color Purple down on the edge of Kate’s desk. “And have you read it?”

Kate quirked an eyebrow. “Of course I’ve read it.”

Tilly tapped the cover with her fingertip. “And you approved it as a prescribed text?”

“Obviously.”

“Well,” Tilly huffed, “it was banned.”

Seriously? “So what if it was banned? We studied The Catcher in the Rye and that was banned. In fact, I vividly recall Sister Mary Margaret teaching us Salinger. Remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

Kate looked at Tilly over the top of her glasses. “I take it you also had a problem teaching Dracula.”

“I haven’t taught Dracula—I’m not usually an English teacher.”

Kate looked up and focused on Tilly’s hardened expression. Wow. She was genuinely irritated. What on earth had just happened across the quad in VCE Literature Extension?

“This is a Catholic school,” Tilly said confidently, as though she’d rehearsed her argument on her way to the music room. “We need to adhere to Catholic teachings.”

Kate scoffed. “This isn’t the eighties—”

“There are explicit sexual references.”

“Tilly, a small passage from The Color Purple isn’t going to make much of an impression on these girls, trust me. We have much greater cause for concern—a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey has been making the rounds for months. I’m sure it’s under one of their mattresses. I just have to find it…”

Ignoring Kate, Tilly swiped the novel from the desk and flicked through it, her cheeks hollowing as she bit the insides of her mouth. Suddenly, she stopped turning the pages, her eyes focused on a particular passage. “It says…”

“It says?” Kate prompted.

As her gaze locked with Kate’s, Tilly swallowed overtly. She stood taller and squared her shoulders. “Pussy.”

Hearing the word fall from Tilly’s lips sent a charge through her. Quickly, it faded as amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Don’t laugh at me, Kate! I’m serious about this!”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“The girls certainly were!”

“They laughed at you?”

“It’s not just…the ‘pussy’ thing.” Her voice lowered. “We were discussing the theme of sexuality…”

Kate raised an eyebrow.

“And that’s fine,” Tilly assured her, “that’s expected—it’s a senior English literature class. But then Grace insisted we discuss the passage in which Celie looks at herself…” She hesitated. “Between her legs, with a mirror…”

“And?” Kate prompted.